


The Recess (Four Steps Ahead Remix)

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Games, In Public, M/M, Remix, Stockings, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has been so focused on his own game, on keeping his own secret, that he’s failed to notice Erik is playing four steps ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Recess (Four Steps Ahead Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Recess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/627206) by [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q). 



> A sequel of sorts.

They rent two rooms, of course, but it’s really more of a formality at this point. Erik has been staying in Charles’ rooms for the past month and ever since the night they found Angel, he hasn’t even kept up the pretense of keeping his luggage in the spare room.

As it is, they’re searching for another teenager today, a boy with an extraordinary voice. They’re going to have to go out on the town, searching through the local youth hotspots and Charles knows Erik has something planned.

They’ve been playing this game since Angel—since Charles had shown Erik the outfit he’d shown Angel—and, instead of anger or embarrassment, Erik had turned on him with heat and hunger and asked for more.

Erik’s showers don’t last long, so Charles moves quickly, taking the pair of underwear he’d stolen from Raven out from between a pair of folded shirts and pulling it on. He shivers at the slide of soft fabric and lace, adjusting himself before pulling on his trousers.

Taking a deep breath, Charles tries not to think about walking into the bathroom right now, giving up the game early just to see Erik’s face, to feel Erik’s fingers on his skin. He’ll wait. And he’ll win.

-

It’s dangerous to be this close in a public place, but with the way the water relaxes Erik and the feel of fingers against his skin, Charles can’t bring himself to care. Besides, the risk is part of the game, adding to the tension, the urgency.

It’s all worth it for the look on Erik’s face as his fingers twist in the lace of Charles’ underwear. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks and his eyebrows are pinched together as his mind wars between arousal, surprise, and frustration.

Charles knows that his underwear doesn’t quite match Erik’s, that his are a brighter pink with large, white polka dots and bold pink lace, whereas Erik’s is almost dainty, a soft pink with cream dots and a smooth pink lace trim. But it doesn’t matter because he has Erik cornered and he’s caught him at his game and—

And— _oh_ —maybe Erik will still win yet. Charles has been so focused on his own game, on keeping his own secret, that he’s failed to notice Erik is playing four steps ahead. And he loves it.

-

As they walk with Sean around the aquarium, Charles tries to figure Erik out. He doesn’t push with his mind, and he can’t be particularly active with his hands, either. But he tries, running a hand quickly over Erik’s back, feeling for anything out of place, watching the stretch of his trousers as he walks up a flight of stairs behind him.

He turns his focus to Sean, to their mission, to helping other mutants, but the desire is still there, running hot and thick in the back of his mind.

-

When Erik comes back from the restroom at the diner, Sean is at the counter, batting his eyelashes at the middle-aged waitress and asking for a second cherry for his milkshake. The timing is too convenient, but Charles only realizes that Erik’s planned it when he feels Erik discreetly tuck something into the pocket of his blazer under the table as he slides back into the booth.

“For safekeeping,” Erik murmurs, his breath hot against Charles’ ear, and Charles only has a moment to glance down at the hint of pink lace poking out of his pocket before Sean slips back into the booth across from them.

“So what’s in it for me?” Sean asks as soon as he’s rearranged himself and reclaimed his spoon. “Besides free milkshakes. Not that I have anything against free milkshakes. I just assume there’s more.”

There’s a faint flush on Erik’s cheeks and Charles’ pulse races at the thought of Erik stripping in the bathroom, pulling his trousers back on over his bare skin, walking through the packed diner with his warm underwear balled up in his hand, and he has to force himself to focus back on Sean.

Erik’s ahead of him, though, despite his obvious excitement. “You’ll get to meet more of your own kind,” he says, his voice rich in the way it only gets when he’s talking about mutants.

“Not only that,” Charles continues, shifting just slightly enough that his calf is pressed against Erik’s under the table. “We’ll be together, learning how to hone our abilities so that we can reach our true potential.”

Beside him, Erik’s breathing is too loud and too even as they wait for Sean’s decision, like he’s working to control it. Charles grins.

-

They agree to pick Sean up at his house in the morning when they drop him off and as soon as the front door has closed behind him, Charles leans across the bench of the front seat to pull Erik in for a kiss. He feels reckless, parked on a perfect suburban street, each house exactly the same, with pristine laws and white fences. But there’s a pair of polka dotted underwear that probably still smells of Erik’s dick in his pocket and to hell with it all.

The sound Erik makes is low and soft and it rumbles through his chest as he reaches up to curl his fingers around Charles’ on his cheek. Charles smiles into the kiss, pushing Erik back against the seat, shivering as Erik runs a hand down his back.

“This isn’t against any rules in your CIA handbook?” Erik asks, his fingers making their way under the back of Charles’ blazer, spreading out across the small of Charles’ back. “I’d say this counts as a public place.”

Butting their foreheads, Charles says, “If you want to fraternize, you’d do well to stop talking like that.”

Erik’s answering smirk is lost to another kiss, one he bends to, his nails scratching across the fabric of Charles’ shirt.

They move together slowly in the limited space of the car, but Charles manages to get his fingers in along the waist of Erik’s trousers where the skin is warm and bare. When he nudges Erik’s mind, he’s given the sensation of lace sliding against his leg, the pink imprints elastic leaves on skin and he gasps.

“Can’t believe you did that,” Charles murmurs, trailing kisses across Erik’s cheek to his ear.

Erik hums and says, “Can’t believe you wore the same thing as me.” He punctuates it by sliding his fingers down the back of Charles’ trousers and snapping the trim of his underwear.

“In the middle of a family diner,” Charles adds, arching his back into Erik’s hand, happy to feel Erik’s touch again after nearly six hours of waiting. “You didn’t even ask for my help.”

Erik stops fidgeting with the lace trim abruptly and pulls his hand away. “Shall I put them back on?” he asks, reaching into Charles’ pocket again.

Charles pulls the underwear out of Erik’s fingers. “That’s a very kind offer,” he says, folding the silky fabric against Erik’s thigh. The thought stirs a shiver up Charles’ spine and he pushes the image of Erik pulling the underwear on over his hard cock into Erik’s mind. “We’ll have to add it to the possibilities we’re going to explore back in my room.”

“Right,” Erik says, staring down at Charles’ hands, unblinking. Charles can feel the tension in Erik’s muscles now, the shortness of his breath, the warmth of his mind. But Erik stays where he is, waiting.

“My room,” Charles says, pulling away to settle himself back in his own seat. “Which is only about a ten minute drive from here.”

-

Charles turns and pins Erik against the door, one hand trapping a wrist above his head, the other on his hip. He leans in close enough that they’re flush against each other, their lips almost brushing, but pulls back just slightly before Erik can kiss him.

“Will you tell me what else you’re wearing now?” Charles asks, massaging his thumb into Erik’s hip.

Erik relaxes back against the door at the question and gives a half shrug. “I thought you were going to squeeze it out of me,” he says, his free hand sliding up to wrap snugly around Charles’ ass.

Desire flares hot in Charles’ stomach and it’s all he can do to not rock forward against Erik then. As enjoyable as it would be to rub off against each other at the door, he has other plans. And if he’s not mistaken, Erik does as well.

“Do you really want me to squeeze it out?” he asks, tucking his fingers under the hem of Erik’s trousers to brush against his cock. The noise that escapes Erik’s chest at that is almost pained and Charles has to bite his lip to keep from moaning in response. Erik’s clearly been far too aroused for far too long.

Catching his breath, Erik manages, “It’s supposed to be my prize.” His head tips back against the door, eyes closed, and Charles has a hard time remembering how it is that Erik’s the winner here.

“Alright,” he says, backing up a few steps. Erik follows, catching Charles in another kiss that Charles forces himself to break.

“An item of clothing for an item of clothing,” he says between breaths.

Erik eyes him with suspicion, his mind hazy with lust. “I should get to see your polka dots, since you cheated me out of mine,” he says eventually, eying Charles’ belt buckle.

That’s easy. “Of course, darling. I’ll go first. You’ll still have a surprise for me, and you’ll get to see me first.”

There should be strategy to this game, Charles thinks when Erik nods, but all he wants to do is get them out of their clothing as quickly as possible.

After a quick, calming breath, he shrugs out of his blazer, hanging it gently on the doorknob. Even though he’s quite certain there’s no way Erik is hiding something between his leather jacket and his turtleneck, it’s as good a place as any to start. And it makes it easier to feel Erik’s fingers as Erik draws him in for another kiss, his arms winding around Charles’ waist.

Breaking away after only a short moment, Charles takes a breath against Erik’s chin and says, “Your turn.”

The leather jacket drops to the floor with little prelude before Erik leans in again and sucks a kiss into the skin above Charles’ collar. With little time to really _see_ Erik, Charles explores with his fingers, confirming that Erik is wearing a normal turtleneck, no flair. He’d noticed earlier the lack of corset, but he doesn’t mind, enjoying the feel of Erik’s muscles beneath his fingers and he runs his hands over his back, eyes fluttering closed at the pressure of his lips.

Erik’s fingers work their way up to the buttons of Charles’ shirt before Charles bats them away and takes a step back. “That’s my job,” he says, enjoying the curl of desire bright in Erik’s mind.

Working the buttons first at his wrists, and then at his neck, Charles holds Erik’s heated gaze as long as he can. He’s barely finished with the final button before Erik is on him again, sliding his shirt off his shoulders and flinging it towards the closet.

His hands are warm against Charles’ skin, and his mouth warmer as it descends first to his clavicle and then to stretch moist over a nipple, the sensation muted by the thin fabric of Charles’ undershirt. Charles can’t stop a moan at that, his hands coming up to grip at Erik’s arms.

“Please,” he breathes, pinching the fabric of Erik’s turtleneck between his fingers and nudging Erik with his mind. This is still a game and he needs to see more of Erik, to feel more of him, right now.

Erik complies, barely breaking away enough to pull his shirt off. It drops to the floor at his feet and Charles is only mildly disappointed to see Erik’s bare skin beneath it. “Not the camisole, either, then,” he says, brushing his hands down Erik’s sides.

“Of course not,” Erik sniffs, kicking the clothes away from his feet. “It doesn’t match the polka dots.”

Charles laughs. “The leather jacket didn’t exactly match, either,” he says, reaching for his belt. Under normal circumstances, he might’ve taken his undershirt off next, but he’s up at least two items of clothing on Erik now—undershirt and underwear, _god_ —and he wants them to stay evenly matched for as long as possible.

His belt pulls itself out of his hands as soon as it’s unfastened and he grins at the rush of Erik’s powers as Erik sends both of their belts across the room together. He tries not to think of what Erik can do with their belts, what he has done in the past, as he leans up to kiss Erik again, dragging his tongue along Erik’s lip first.

“You’re supposed to wait until I’ve taken mine off before you work on yours,” Charles says, reaching up to twist his fingers in Erik’s hair. “It’s part of the game.”

“I make my own rules,” Erik growls at the same time he’s thinking, _I want to see you—your stupid lovely underwear—I want you to see me—right now_.

“Yes,” Charles breathes into a kiss, toeing off his shoes and kicking them aside. Because Erik hasn’t really seen his underwear, because Erik is naked beneath his trousers, because Erik is still hiding something, something just for Charles, for the feel of it, for knowing that he’s wearing it when the rest of the world has no idea. “ _God_ , yes.”

It takes a moment for Charles to notice that, for all of Erik’s haste, he hasn’t followed Charles’ lead in taking off his shoes. Instead, Erik is standing too still, his mouth still moving with Charles’, but the rest of him nearly frozen.

_No_ , Charles thinks in disbelief, pulling back to stare down at their feet. His socked toes look out of place next to Erik’s leather shoes and when he looks back up, Erik is grinning.

Very slowly, Erik picks up first one foot and then the other, pulling each shoe off gently, an inch at a time, revealing the soft, pink fabric of his stockings in a show that leaves Charles’ pulse racing and his fingers itching.

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything to cut the tension that’s running thick in the air, but all that escapes him is a strangled noise. Erik’s been walking around all day with pink polka dots on his cock and pink stockings around his legs and Charles has been a fool not to get him in bed earlier.

He doesn’t waste time now, though, reaching for the fastenings of Erik’s trousers, intent on seeing just how high the stockings go, but Erik grabs his hands and holds tight, leaning in over him.

“I believe it’s your turn first,” he says, his voice pitched low and his pupils wide.

Charles swallows and nods. “Of course,” he says, fumbling with his trousers, sliding them off as quickly as he can. He’s already mostly hard in his underwear, his cock stretching the fabric and nearly obscene.

Erik moans softly, shifting forward into Charles’ space, wrapping his fingers around Charles’ cock and squeezing gently. “You’re so gorgeous,” he says, voice rough against Charles’ cheek.

Humming, Charles stares down at Erik’s hand, large and strong against bright pink silk. It’s absurd and beautiful and everything that Charles had wanted when he’d pulled the underwear on this morning, but now, he just wants Erik’s trousers off.

“Not as gorgeous as you,” Charles manages to pant out, turning his eyes up to Erik. It never fails to amaze him how praise laces Erik’s thoughts through with pink, how it makes his eyes bright and pulls a softer smile to the corner of his lips. “Come on.”

Erik runs his thumb over the tip of Charles’ cock as he pulls it away, leaving Charles’ shuddering in his wake. He makes quick work of his fastenings, but moves slowly as he slides his trousers down, revealing first the fine hairs on the skin of his belly, the thin scar on the inside of his left hip.

He hisses as his cock jumps free of its confines, long and hard and begging for Charles’ touch, but Charles is enthralled, can’t move as Erik keeps going. There’s lace midway up his thighs, a soft cream color that pinches together at a tiny pink bow, a perfect, feminine touch that has Charles’ stomach fluttering.

“Come _on_ ,” he whispers, his fingers twitching at his sides, itching to feel the fabric, to run over the contours of Erik’s legs.

Smirking up at him, Erik lets his trousers drop the rest of the way to the floor and steps out of them on his toes, stretching his legs perfectly as he does. He stands for a moment, letting Charles drink in the sight. Pink knit stockings decorated with stripes of small cream polka dots up the sides, leading up to his pale thighs and his cock standing between his legs and Charles might moan at that, but he can’t be certain because his brain seems to have fizzled out.

“So, are you going to help me take them off?” Erik asks, walking to the edge of the bed. The soft fabric accents the muscles in his legs and Charles is riveted. He’s only pushed into action when Erik sits, his fingers hooking the top of one stocking to pull it down.

“No!” Charles gasps, stumbling across the room to catch Erik’s hand. He can feel Erik’s amusement without looking up, but he doesn’t care, not as long as the stockings stay on.

Dropping to his knees between Erik’s feet, Charles pulls the stocking back up as gently as he can, smoothing the fabric out when it’s in place, running his hands over Erik’s knee and down his calf to his heel and the arch of his foot.

“No,” Charles repeats, glancing up at Erik to catch his eye. “I’d like it if they stayed on.”


End file.
